


Wake Up

by arrowroi77 (withoutwings)



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-26 00:30:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3830515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withoutwings/pseuds/arrowroi77
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Avengers don't exist. They're a made up fantasy. Just a story made up in the minds of six patients in Ward M by the names of Banner, Stark, Odinsen, Rushman, and Barton. There's a lot about their condition the staff still haven't figured out (inspired by this post).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

From the outside, it looked like a prison. Ask anyone, it pretty much was.

As soon as Dr. Phil Coulson stepped out of his red car, he had to double check the address stamped on the envelope in his hand to make sure he was at the right place.

"This is a hospital?" He muttered to the envelope, as if it could answer his question. He looked from the paper to the sign at the gate entrance then back to the paper.

There is no sign of life, barely any vegetation or animals. It's dead silent outside the hospital, where it's all stone walls surrounded by gates that reach about 20 feet high, lined with barbed wire. It looks like a prison, and could be mistaken for one if it wasn't for the deeply etched lettering on the tombstone-looking sign at the entrance that read: Shield Psychiatric Hosp. State of New York Dept of Human Services.

"This is the place," he confirmed to himself with a nod and got back in the car; he drove through the gate and to the hospital center. He parked right in front of the hospital doors; pulled the keys out of the ignition as he stepped out of the car, grabbed his suitcase from the floor behind the driver's seat, and pressed the lock button, which was followed by a double-beep. "I guess it's okay to park there."

Just as he was about to knock on the doors, they opened. Behind them, a woman. "Maria Hill," she introduced herself with a nod. "The hospital's been expecting you."

"I'm not late am I?" He asked humorously, smiling kindly and offering his hand while taking off his sunglasses with the other. She didn't look too friendly about the gesture but took it anyway. It was a short handshake. "Phil Coulson."

"I know." Of course she knew who he was, she worked here, and he had called ahead; what else would Coulson expect. She stepped aside, back against the door, to allow the man through. Once Coulson was inside she promptly bolted the door; regulation he supposed.

It was a long walk through the hall before they reached the second pair of doors, and Coulson had to ask, "Where are all the patients?"

"You're about to meet them, it's break time," Hill answered, pushing open one of the thick double doors.

Coulson didn't expect the sudden commotion to hit him like it did, it had been so quiet behind the doors. As soon as he crossed the double doors, noise came from all directions, he heard a woman crying, some men yelling and a few nurses scurrying about. It was easy to distinguish the patients in the dull gray colored-jumpsuit from the staff, who wore a black uniform with the hospital logo over the heart.

But the first thing that grabbed his attention was the muscular blond being strapped to a stretcher.

"I'm a World War II war veteran! I told you that!" He yelled, desperately trying to get someone to listen to him to no avail as four men held him down, and another attempted to talk to him instead of listen. All this Coulson observed before quickly turning his head to the brunet standing in the corner with a nurse attempting to coax him out.

"Nothing works here, the medication doesn't work. I hate this place." The brunette kept saying, keeping to himself and appearing to make himself smaller. He was hunched over, staring at the wall, rubbing his hands together and repeating the same line: Nothing works here, the medication doesn't work. I hate this place. Over and over again.

Just as Coulson turned back to the blond, who he didn't hear anymore, he realized the staff had injected him with something to help the struggling man fall asleep and they were rolling him away and through another pair of double doors.

"Barton, get down from there!"

Coulson quickly turned when he heard Maria yell at this Barton guy. He followed Ms. Hill's gaze up to the top of a barred window, the kid hanging at the top by his mere fingertips had quite a hold on the metal bar that framed the window. It would have to take someone with a large amount of upper body strength to pull himself up to the top.

While Coulson was fascinated by the level of skill put into the feat, Hill was busy chewing out the patient who obviously could care less about what she had to say.

"Now, Barton." She ordered after threatening him with taking away his privileges.

"Here, let me." Coulson stepped in. Hill gave him a questioning look. Coulson smiled in reassurance, "I've got this."

"He's all yours." She said, leaving the two so that she could attend to another patient that just came through.

"Tony, why am I not surprised." He heard her say.

Coulson returned his gaze back up at his monkey. "That's quite some height you've got there, I'm impressed. But I think you're getting tired," he noted noticing the young man's biceps quiver with strain. The only response he got was a judgemental glare.

"Barton, right?" Coulson continued anyway, keeping his voice leveled, standing right beneath the man. "Hi, I'm Phil Coulson. We haven't met, I'm new here." Coulson stopped short, watching the man closely. He recognized it almost immediately. The man was lip reading, his eyes were trained on Coulson lips and he had not once turned his head or his concentration.

"Barton? Can you hear me?" Coulson asked, receiving a wide-eyed look in response. "I'll take that as a no."

"Do you want to come down, so we can talk, maybe?"

The man shook his head. It was the first real act of communication Coulson has received from this man. It made him smile. Barton frowned in confusion.

"Alright, alright, that's fine. We can talk like this." Coulson smiled again, folding his hands together. "How old are you, Barton?"

"Clint."

Coulson's eyes widened this time, "Excuse me?"

"My name is Clint."

This caused the older man to smile again, "Nice to meet you Clint."

He noticed the man visibly flinch.

"What's wrong Clint?"

Clint clenched his jaw, staring cold and hard at the new guy.

"I'm sorry if I offended you in anyway," Coulson said slowly, wanting to stay on good terms with this blond.

The man slipped down from the bar like a firefighter, although with a lot more grace, similar to that of a gymnast. To Coulson's relief, Barton landed on his feet without injury.

"Please don't do that again, nearly gave me a heart attack."

"You're not playing this game, not you Coulson. Please tell me you're not in on this," he pleaded. Clint stood no more than three feet away from the man who had a look of confusion thrown upon his features.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand. What game?"

Clint looked about ready to pounce. A wrong move could set him off, and Coulson knew this man was probably stronger than him in muscle. Yet, all he did was lean forward and speak a few words. "Get me out."

Coulson stared in bewilderment at the man, unable to match those intense eyes, which never rested.

"You got him down, good job." Hill popped up from behind him, before Coulson got a chance to respond to Barton's plead for help.

"Uh, yeah. He's not that bad once you get to know him," Coulson managed a smile, shifting uneasily from one foot to the other.

Hill hummed in accordance with his words. "Good to hear, he's a part of the unit you've been assigned to." She gestured for some of the larger staff for assistance, they came immediately.

"Come on Barton, back to your room. No more recreation for today."

Coulson wished the man wouldn't struggle. It was hard to watch, the blond looked able to fight but ultimately outnumbered and made quite a show of himself as the guards had to pin him to the ground, face facing the floor. Hill kneeled in front of him, using a commanding tone, "You can't hit anyone Barton. Those are the rules. No hitting. Do you understand?"

She didn't get the response she wanted from Coulson could tell.

"Do you understand?"

The man continued to struggle on the floor though held firmly with his arms behind his back, legs pressed down, and a hand keeping his head down. Coulson couldn't seem to move from the scene, as though his shoes were glued to the floor.

"Alright Barton, you've got a choice. The easy way or the painful way, we're going to have to sedate you. Now you can take the pill and we can let this go, or we can use the needle and take your free time privileges."

He whined and kept fussing around, his face had turned red from attempting to resist the guard's hand on his head. He seemed to be calming down as soon as he noticed the woman beside Hill carrying a bottle, he knew what it meant. "Alright, alright, I'll take the pill."

Hill nodded to the nurse beside her who handed her the container. Coulson watched with horror.

Clint opened his mouth as Hill fed the tablet to him, then the glass of water. Everyone seemed relieved as the tension died down in the main room.

In the next split second, Clint spat out the water (along with the pill) in Hill's direction, managing to spray her by a bit and he broke out laughing. Coulson had to bite his lip to keep from smiling.

"That's it," she said angrily. She nodded to one of the staff holding down the patient. He pulled out a syringe and stuck it on the exposed skin. It worked instantaneously, the men began to drowse and soon enough, he was out.

"Was that really necessary?" Coulson asked Hill, as he watched two men carry off Barton through the same double doors he saw the muscular blond wheeled out of.

"They have to know who's in charge, otherwise they won't respect you." She turned to face him, "You can't let them walk over you."

"Is he deaf?"

"Yes. But how did you-?"

"I saw him reading my lips." Coulson said sadly, now understanding why he had a hard time following orders. Hill didn't look as sympathetic.

"He pulled out his hearing-aids again," she sighed in frustration. "I don't get it, they're not even visible if you're not looking, I haven't figured out why he keeps taking them out. Now I have to find them. I can't wait to see where he's hid them this time. Excuse me."

Coulson watched as she stalked off, interested in following her to see if she could use his help. He felt bad about standing idly to the side as the scene from earlier took place right in front of him. He should have done something.

"We need to make it louder in here, it's too quiet."

Coulson tried not to jump as the firm sarcastic voice that came from behind him suddenly out of nowhere. He turned around to see a man with an... eyepatch. Artistic touch?

"Nick Fury," the eyepatch man offered a hand. "Head of this hospital."

"Nice to meet you," Coulson responded in kind. "I'm-"

"I know who you are."

Coulson shrugged. The man gestured in front of him, with an open palm.

"Walk with me, Dr. Coulson."

"Okay."

"There are four psychiatric units in this facility. You'll be stationed to work with those behind that door." They were headed in the direction of the same double doors Coulson saw them take two patients through, and the same doors that Hill went through when she left.

"We have some interesting characters here, I think you'll take a particular interest to Ward M."

"What's in Ward M?"

"Our superheroes."

"Very funny, sir."

Coulson stopped walking when Fury did.

"I'm not joking. These people are broken. For the most part, they're here for life. Ward M houses our facilities superheroes, or at least, those who truly believe they are superheroes."

Coulson nodded. Fury continued.

"Let me be clear, there are no such things as superheroes. Do not encourage it," Fury warned, staring Coulson down right outside the double doors with a sign overheard that read "Ward M."

"Tell me Coulson, why are you here?"

"I want to help people."

"Welcome to the family."


	2. Chapter 2

It was brisk, the tour. Doctor Fury made sure to keep it quick and to the point. Even then, Coulson absorbed every detail the man with the eyepatch said, cataloguing it for later reference. The head doctor had told him it was alright to loosen up a bit, and Coulson considered it. But the atmosphere was unlike any hospital Coulson's ever worked at. It was tense and held a puzzling feeling; he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was just yet.

Ward M turned out to be a long room housing a row of beds (six he counted), separated by adjustable black curtains, which stood out from the all the white. At least there was a touch of privacy.

"Not bad. It's better than I expected."

"And what exactly were you expecting, Coulson?" The head doctor asked curiously.

"I don't know… metal bars, cells, shackles, the whole medieval theme." Coulson noticed the director didn't appreciate his humor.

Two of the six beds were currently occupied, one held the handsome blond from the stretcher earlier and the other, Coulson's little monkey, Clint. Both were out cold, knocked by the medicine. The room was lit by ceiling light for there were no windows in this unit. Coulson assumed there weren't any windows in any other unit, and that the main center was the only room with windows patients were allowed to roam in during break time.

"Tell me about the patients, Doctor Fury." Coulson insisted, despite holding a file on each of the six patients. Fury had handed it to him just minutes earlier.

The head doctor spun around and paused for a moment before answering.

"Patients Banner, Stark, Rogers, Odinsen, Rushman and Barton share a very... peculiar condition. They have an undifferentiated type of schizophrenia, and there's a lot about their conditions that we still don't understand. But over the past few years they've developed some sort of collective delusion."

Fury shook his head, and gave a light dry chuckle.

"They believe they're some type of heroes; The Avengers, they call themselves. Both together and individually they face overblown, grand conflicts against an assortment of enemies: human, alien, monsters, gods, you name it…"

Fury was done talking, and left without a word more, leaving Coulson alone with the six patient profiles in hand and the two passed out men. And that was the last Coulson saw of the man for a long time. Coulson lifted the chair by the door and carried it past Clint, whose bed was closest to the door, and over by the mysterious blond's bedside, which was farthest from the door. It was strange, seeing the man so calm and asleep, when just earlier he was eagerly fighting to sit upright. It took four men to hold him down as Coulson recalled.

The slight rise and fall of the man's chest was enough to put Coulson at ease. He shuffled through the profiles in his hand until he came across the one with the paperclipped picture that resembled the man in front of him. It read: ROGERS, Steve.

"Nice to meet you Steve." Coulson muttered, placing the files on his lap. Steve looked healthy, physically fit and able. For all Coulson knew, this man could be on an Olympic athlete for any sport. It made Coulson curious as to what Steve did before being admitted. He sighed and got up. There was no telling until the man woke up and Coulson thought it best to let him rest.

On his way out of Ward M, he paused by Clint, who was also sleeping, and wondered what the man could have meant by his words just an hour earlier. Coulson was aware it could have been disorientation or something of the like, and he could have dismissed it. But Coulson couldn't. Those eyes… Clint had recognized him in a strange and unsettling way.

Coulson tossed the black uniform Fury gave him in his locker and returned to the front desk by the main center, where the "well-behaved" patients got to spend their break time while being monitored by the staff. The front desk contained a glass barrier between the staff and the patients; it was similar to a command center, just, a bit smaller and with much less tech. Off to the side was but one computer, a few file cabinets, and shelves filled with prescription drugs.

From his seat at the main center desk, he could see Ward M's doors. Coulson observed the life around him in the main center for a while. There were two elderly men playing chess in the corner, which made Coulson smile softly, a redheaded woman reading some form of literature, and the same brunet with glasses from earlier just standing there looking lost, not speaking to anyone.

Coulson shuffled through the profiles of the patients in Ward M. He picked out Rogers' file, just to look at the picture again.

Steve looked like a different man than the one Coulson saw when he first got here, so strained and stressed. The picture was the opposite. While Rogers wasn't smiling, he wasn't frowning either. His blue eyes were bright with life and he had an air of confidence about him. Coulson checked the clock and put down the file, which had a SHIELD logo on the cover. It seemed just about everything had the SHIELD logo printed on it; someone must have went wild with the merchandise labeling.

He was tired of reading the words disorganized behavior, agitation, social isolation, compulsive behavior, disorientation and other long words his eyes only skimmed over on different sheets of paper and in the end he simply tossed them aside lazily.

Clint's last words to him stuck with Coulson. Get me out. He rested his chin in his hands as his elbows rested on the desk, and he sat there staring just straight ahead at nothing. It was troubling.

"Something the matter, doctor?"

Coulson blinked back to reality to see Maria Hill standing in front of him.

"Nurse Hill," he said, already getting up from his chair.

"If you're not too busy staring at the wall, come with me. I could use you in the emergency room."

"Sure, what's going on?"

"First thing you should know, before patients are admitted to the psychiatric units, they are taken to the psychiatric emergency room. That's where we're headed now, keep your head on."

They walked out of the main center, nearing the front of the hospital. Coulson was surprised he missed these doors right by the entrance. The ER.

As they approached the ER, Hill began to explain to him. "Tony Stark has been on a leave of absence for the last three months. He's admitting himself again today. His friend, Colonel James Rhodes, is here with him. I need you to speak with him, tell him everything is fine while I work with Stark."

Coulson nodded, and braced himself for what was to come.

The first thing he registered was the screams. Behind these doors he could hear cries of pain and anguish. He could tell a lot of people weren't happy. Then Hill opened the door. Coulson thought he'd seen the worst of it. How wrong he was. He would laugh at his past self.

"I want to get out of here! I want to get out of here!" A young woman cried hysterically till she was red in the face. A staff member and a nurse were holding her down, even as she was already strapped to a wheelchair. "LET GO OF ME!"

Just a few glances away, a man with shoulder length hair was being strapped to a rolling bed. His body would contract and then jolt outward, in an earnest attempt to get up and out of the arms holding him down. "I don't need help! Go away!" He yelled between his struggles.

"Most patients arrive in critical condition, even spend days in the emergency room." He heard Hill say as he absently continued to follow her through the mess of patients and staff.

"Get away from me before I claw your head off, bub," growled an angry man. Wait, did he just snarl? Coulson looked for the source of the man spitting out threats but was abruptly pulled by the arm by Hill who smacked a clipboard to his chest.

"Head on." She reminded him. He ran a hand down his face. Come on, Phil. Hold it together. He told himself.

It was a madhouse. The emergency room was an entirely different story than he expected, and definitely not in his purview.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, it's my first time posting a story here. I appreciate it.


End file.
